


Achilles, Come Down

by My5tic_Lali



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: 4x05 was perfect but I needed more hugs for buck, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag to 4x05 'Buck Begins', Fire, Firefam 118, Firefam Feels, Found Family, Gen, Missing Scene, POV Multiple, also maddie is mentioned, athena is here for a bit, me during the whole episode: is anybody gonna give this boy a hug? please?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:55:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29598624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My5tic_Lali/pseuds/My5tic_Lali
Summary: The sprinklers were beginning to drown out the roar of flame, but their deluge was just a replacement.  A hollow victory when each corner didn’t reveal Eddie's teammate.And then he heard it.  The groan of metal.  And a hoarse, agonized, drawn-out yell.It was unmistakably Buck.All four of them moved into a sprint at once.///missing/extended scenes from 4x05
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Bobby Nash, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 125
Collections: 9-1-1 Tales





	Achilles, Come Down

_Achilles  
Achilles  
Achilles come down, won't you  
Get up off  
Get up off the roof?  
You're scaring us  
And all of us  
Some of us love you  
Achilles, it's not much but there's proof_

Bobby's whole day had been defined by an undercurrent of worry for Buck. From the start of their shift, it had been apparent from the get-go that something was up. He was full of fake energy, movements just a bit too slow and jaw clenched. At least he hadn't had to be subtle about getting him to open up—Eddie had scarcely gotten changed and joined them upstairs when Buck was standing before the three of them, expression past the edge into too-casual, and came out with it.

Bobby was far from being able to judge other people's parenting. He knew that everyone was bumbling through it, that it was just a matter of doing what you thought was best and hoping it worked out. Even with ideal circumstances, it involved a lot of blind luck and a whole metric ton of mistakes and course-corrections. But that didn't mean that something deep within him didn't boil as Buck explained about his dead brother, about being a "savior sibling", about being lied to for his whole life. It was more sympathy for the way that Buck bit out the words like they didn't matter, how the kid clearly felt he just had to smile through it. (And maybe a little bit of judgment for the Buckley parents.)

He'd tried to keep positive, to not fracture the bravado that Buck played at as he leaned against the loft railing. Buck answered without really answering, joking and bitter. He'd exchanged looks with Hen and Eddie—both of them exasperated and worried in equal amounts. Bobby couldn't imagine what Buck had gone through with all of this—he considered offering him a free shift off if he needed to process. But he also knew that this act was Buck's defense, and the job his refuge.

So he silently locked eyes with Eddie and then Hen later, a quiet resolve among all three of them to watch out for their younger teammate, to not make a big deal out of this but to keep a weather eye on him. He knew Chimney would support them too, but he was having to tiptoe around Buck as it was, rebuffed at every turn by a grief-fueled anger that Bobby let Buck get away with, for fear that a challenge would topple the kid into a meltdown. He prepared for a day of extra caution with their younger teammate, to distract him with chores and whatever calls might come their way.

But it was just their luck that the shift couldn't be easy, couldn't allow them to carefully test out the edges of Buck's mood and support and gently nudge him into a better headspace. The evening was lost in the whirlwind of fire and nightmare fuel.

He had been unsurprised when Buck had radioed from the middle of the inferno. Afraid, sure. Exasperated, maybe. But surprised? Not in the slightest. He'd set his jaw and resigned himself to waiting for Mehta's rescue team address his missing firefighter.

And then came a blast of heat and sound, a familiar sound that always promised destruction and a cracking of whatever hope Bobby clung to that Buck would be easily recovered. He and the rest of the team turned and watched it, the same horror freezing each of their feet.

The explosion knocked the team's fragile restraint away, and Bobby hadn't needed to look at the rest of the team to know they were all seconds away from heading back into the factory, with or without the IC's approval.

There was no question. Buck would do the same for them.

/

The academy tried to lie about it. About the turnout coats, their heavy gear, their extensive training. That they would prepare you. That when the time came and you were surrounded by fire and roaring and your oxygen mask felt like less of a protection and more of a cage, you would be ready.

Eddie had known that was a lie for a while now—his BT before Afghanistan had lied in the same way. Preparation was all well and good, and it was all you could do, really, but it wasn't a cure. It didn't stop your hands from shaking, didn't stop the heat from attacking like a physical presence, didn't keep your friends from disobeying orders in stupid self-sacrificial bids to save just one more life.

Not that he had much experience with that, of course.

The fire had been bad enough, when he'd been in there at first with Bobby and the 133. They'd had a goal, a group of survivors, and too few hands. It had been one of the worst infernos he'd seen so far on the job. And then he'd gotten out, gotten the workers to the waiting ambos, and gotten four-fifths done with his usual headcount.

But the fire was so much worse, now. The heat that had been a presence before was an oppressive eternity now, pushing on all sides, creating this living roar of flame. But some deep spark of concern had been lit in his chest when the building blew again, and they knew Buck was still in here. So they continued their jog inside. Eddie refused to let his pace slow, eyes scanning for pathways in and out, for the familiar figure he just knew would be in the thickest part of the fire.

Bobby was behind him, reporting vague facts to the IC, trusting Eddie to guide them. They'd tried to raise Buck again on the radio, but couldn't afford to wait for a response. He was still in here somewhere, and they would find him. Bobby had pretended to not be panicked when he'd told the IC that they were going in after Buck. The IC had pretended not to notice, and given them a terse nod. None of the four of them could have pretended that they were going to wait for his permission, but Eddie appreciated it. At least he wouldn't have to worry about getting a write-up after all of this.

Hen jogged just behind Bobby, her eyes scanning the too bright yellow world around them in an endless loop. She'd been quiet, hugging Chim's side since the explosion. Eddie couldn't blame her for letting Buck go—not like any of them could have stopped him—but he also hated the thought of his best friend fighting through this smoke, enabled to go and do his usual suicidal stunts. Hen had been the last to see him. She had let him go. Her furrowed eyebrows were the only indication of her worry. She held herself together with an iron will, but Eddie knew she'd been checking and re-checking her gear on the way in, probably preparing herself for whatever eventuality they might find inside.

And Chimney rounded out their train, his shoulders too-tight under his turnout coat. He had been the first to run toward the building, outstripping Eddie just slightly. He'd been tense and haunted all day, resigned to Buck's cold shoulder but determined to keep trying. Eddie had seen the way he'd shaken his head when he'd realized Buck hadn't made it out. Maybe _resigned_ wasn't the right word. _Guilty?_ Eddie knew that Buck would forgive Chim—easier than he'd forgive Maddie, really—but he'd also seen the too-casual way Buck had told them the family secret this morning, the quiet way he clenched his jaw. There was more pain than anger in Buck's avoidance, and Chim must have known it too.

Eddie kept up the pace through the factory. Walls of flame seemed engineered to frustrate him at every turn, and a cord deep in his chest was taut enough to hurt with every passing second they couldn't find Buck.

His heart had gotten tight back when Chim first said "Where's Buck?" And even though his voice had came over the IC's radio, no hoarser or more strained than expected when in the middle of a five-alarm fire, Eddie hadn't lost that icy feeling of doom that crept along his insides, fear only held back by training and the immediate need to go, to run and get Buck back himself. He'd put his mask back on and readied his helmet, without needing to think about it. The rescue team that Mehta sent wasn't enough to banish the need to get Buck himself. And then the _whoosh_ and shudder of another explosion rocked through them, through the building and blasting out the windows, pouring more smoke out into the sky and notching the heat up just that much more. And the icy feeling was strong enough that for one second, Eddie could only stare, limbs locked in a denial he couldn't voice. _No, Buck isn't out yet._

By now, Eddie felt like his chest was tight enough to snap in half. He occupied himself in the repetition of his pounding feet, picking the careful path he had to lead them down. But his heart was a frigid lump inside him, painful and ever-present.

The sprinkler system finally came on, and part of Eddie was glad that the fire would be contained. The rest of him felt no better about the destroyed factory, not when around any corner might lurk one of his worst nightmares. Not when they hadn't heard from Buck in minutes that might as well have been years. The sprinkler system didn't mean the last worker wasn't already dead. Didn't mean the explosion hadn't torn their teammate from them.

The sprinklers were beginning to drown out the roar of flame, but their deluge was just a replacement. A hollow victory when each corner didn't reveal his teammate.

And then he heard it.

The groan of metal. And a hoarse, drawn-out yell.

It was unmistakably Buck.

All four of them moved into a sprint at once—Eddie remaining in the lead only by virtue of already being there. Bobby was so close at his shoulder that Eddie could feel their captain reach for his radio. The slick floor beneath his feet threatened to stumble him, but Eddie refused to let it. He couldn't tell if the scream had been one of grief. One of pain. One of exertion. It didn't matter.

They sprinted toward the sound, dodging warped metal pathways and toppled containers, until Eddie's eyes finally found the figure they'd been seeking this whole time.

/

Things had been bad enough, before the explosion knocked him and Saleh off the gantry. But in the aftermath of the shudder and fall, of the horror of seeing Saleh thrown from the walkway even as it lurched beneath his feet, there was a _clang_ and a brief, blessed quiet—free of smoke, and heat, and the sinking realization that he had messed up. The deep churning in his gut that he had messed up, _again_ , that he was lost, and it wasn't just _him_ to go down this time. Saleh was the last worker in the factory. And Buck _needed_ to get him out. Needed to do something to remedy the way his world felt off-kilter, the way his mind was caught in an endless loop revolving around a figure that had never existed in his childhood but whose absence had been everywhere.

All of that faded in the aftermath of the gantry collapsing.

But the reprieve was brief, and he blinked awake in what felt like a mere moment, at first only cognizant of ringing in his ears, and a dull ache through his side, but then the rest of the sensations came rushing back: heat, so much heat, and the same endless churning of guilt and grief and confusion in his gut. Just in time for him to see Saleh's outstretched form on the concrete beside him, unmoving.

The vat that had fallen across the worker's lower body was yet another strike against this already terrible day.

Buck hadn't despaired, not truly—maybe somewhere deep inside of him was hopelessness, but Buck was a doer, and his body kept going even though his mind whispered it was pointless. He cast around for anything to use as a lever, consumed with solving this problem, ignoring the knowledge that more problems awaited even if he could get the vat off of Saleh.

He knelt beside the winded, soot-covered worker. "I'm gonna need you to try and stay calm, okay?" Buck's voice scraped against his throat, and he knew he didn't sound very hopeful. He didn't _feel_ very hopeful. "I'm gonna get this thing off you. I'm gonna get you out of here." Buck kept his voice low, trying to convince himself as much as Saleh. He had come in here to get the last worker, and he wasn't leaving without him. Bobby and the rest could berate him for disobeying direct orders again as much as they wanted, as long as Saleh was out there, and Buck's latest risk didn't spell the end for him.

And the growing pool of flammable sanitizer that crept towards the both of them? Icing on the cake, obviously. Buck was almost too far gone to add any fear or hopelessness onto the crushing weight on his chest.

He radioed in anyway, hating that he wished Bobby was the IC, because while Mehta might have the same skill level, Buck's fragile control would have been helped wonderfully by Bobby's familiar, ever-calm tone. He could trust Mehta's team, could sit tight and wait for rescue, if that puddle stopped inching closer—

The blast of sound warned him just in time for Buck to throw himself over Saleh. The explosion rocked through the factory, adding ever more groaning and roaring into the already overwhelming cacophony, but nothing came crashing down upon him, and the heat receded again after the explosion.

"You okay?" He asked the guy, marveling at Saleh's apparent composure.

"This is a relative term," he muttered back, sweaty and shuddering, obviously not breathing well. "But I am all right."

But he wasn't going to stay that way. Buck's eyes were drawn inexorably back to the spreading, on-fire pool of sanitizer. He couldn't lose Saleh. Couldn't give up. Couldn't wait for rescue.

His mind darted around for whatever scraps of information might be useful. His gear was discarded quickly, none of it preparing him for flammable liquid removal. But what about the rest of the factory… Buck spun in place instead, refusing to stop until he found something. He didn't know about hand sanitizer factories, but he did know… _Fire extinguishers._ The lists upon lists of regulations that he'd memorized, that he'd checked off of endless forms as a fire marshal. He caught sight of one, hopefully undamaged even in the midst of this, but gasping breaths interrupted him. Saleh was fading. Too long inside, or shock, it didn't matter—his one job, the one thing he could do to make this all right again, was fading.

He didn't even need to think about it. Buck was tearing off his helmet and his oxygen mask in moments, taking two last, deep, blissfully non-toxic breaths, before affixing the mask to Saleh's face. "Here, you go. Just breathe. Just breathe." Even as the heat slammed into his own throat, the smoke thick enough to taste, he held the mask til it settled on Saleh.

He wasted no time. Breathing hurt, so he held it as long as he could, sprinting and sliding towards the fire extinguisher, refusing to let the heat slow him.

But even once he'd stopped the flaming sanitizer, and dropped back to his knees beside the worker, hating how his limbs shook and his breaths came ever heavier, Buck saw Saleh's eyes slipping closed. He was still fading. Buck's heart skipped several beats, and he mindlessly talked to him, begging Saleh to breathe, to not make Buck a loser again, a failure at the only thing he'd ever loved being. And just in time—some mixture of blessing and redundancy—the sprinklers overhead switched on, barely audible through the flames. Buck heard it as white noise, but the resulting weight of the liquid against his turnout coat brought it to his attention.

It wasn't a reprieve. Maybe the fire would abate soon, but Saleh wasn't going to make it. The rescue team, if it was even still coming, wouldn't find them in time.

Buck didn't need to think about what was next. Rope, axe—a pulley, the quickest, dirtiest, most direct way. The vat had to move. And it was just Buck.

The physical exertion was enough, for one second, to overwhelm the impending doom that was eating away at him. The ever-growing fear of failure, of loss, of yet another person he couldn't save.

But even as his arms shook with vain effort, his heart sank, and the doubts came back. The fear rose like bile in his throat. The vat hadn't budged an inch, and he was useless. Not enough. Never enough.

His foot slipped in the growing puddle around them. His full weight hung from the rope, barely balanced, and Buck wavered, grappling for control, for some semblance of hope. He couldn't bear to look at Saleh, to see if he'd stilled for the last time. The fear burst out from him in a yell, not of exertion but of pain. It threatened to swallow him whole: the lack of grip, the spiraling feeling of failure. He slipped over the edge and his forehead was dipping down towards the soaked concrete. It was cold. It was all cold, even though the residual heat of the fire was far from gone. Buck was cold.

He didn't even hear them.

Buck was surrounded on all sides by that gaping feeling of failure in his chest, the exhaustion tugging at his limbs and his mind. The world had been spinning all day and now he had lost any footing he'd managed to maintain. Grief and fury and pain and hopelessness and this terrible feeling of not knowing who he was anymore.

But then he felt the rope—his fingers were still wrapped unfeelingly around it—jerk, steady, and miraculously gain slack. And his heart seemed to halt, caught from sinking ever down into despair.

Buck turned around and saw them. Didn't matter that the turnout coats and masks obscured most of their features. He _knew_ them, could recognize their familiar presences what felt like subconsciously.

His team had found him. They'd caught him.

/

Buck was bent clear in half, full weight thrown against a rope that disappeared up and over one of the rafters above them. Eddie connected the dots in seconds—the stationary figure beneath the toppled vat, the taut line of the rope, Buck's yell and stooped head.

He skidded to a stop beside him, heart in his throat. Buck didn't have his oxygen mask on. It was a stupid thing to notice, when there was a civilian trapped, and ten thousand other things to worry about, but the simple lack of a mask was the detail Eddie found himself focusing on. It meant when his friend turned to look at him, movement tinged with exhaustion and disbelief, Eddie got a full view of his face. The way Buck's mouth hung slightly open. The deep, grief-laden set of his eyebrows. And the terrible, blank, lost look in his eyes.

He thought he was maybe saying something— _Buck, you okay? Please tell me you're okay_ —or maybe one of the others was, maybe Bobby was reporting to IC. The sounds were quickly washed away in the deluge of the sprinklers. Eddie wasn't really aware of it.

He had grabbed on to the rope with one hand, the other extended towards Buck, before he could think twice. But the rest of the team filed in behind him, and the more important job had to be done first. So, Eddie turned back away from Buck's hopeless gaze, and set his stance, both hands wrapped around the rope and already beginning to heave away at it. Bobby's, Hen's, and Chim's hands joined his, a stack that filled the comparatively tiny rope. And without even needing to think, they all hauled down on the pulley as one.

It took a moment, their combined efforts barely seeming to matter to the giant vat, massive and destructive and unconscious of their fury and fear, but then Eddie felt Buck move. He felt Buck reposition, re-solidify his feet. And then, the rope began to move.

He _felt_ every centimeter that the vat rose, every moment of straining against what might as well have been a mountain. And then Hen was ducking out, and Eddie tightened his grip, locked his elbows against his chest to keep the rope from drifting at all in the absence of her help. She dove for the worker, and Eddie heard her "Clear!" like music. He, Bobby, and Chim slacked immediately, the vat sinking inexorably back to land.

As soon as it touched down, Eddie released the rope and spun to Buck.

His friend still hung onto the rope, seemingly frozen there were it not for the loosening tension in his jaw, and the waver in his stance. There was no need to keep tension on the pulley anymore. But Buck still grappled with it, like he hadn't processed that they'd been successful. Like he was still stuck in that moment. Like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

Chim had joined Hen, leaning over the worker in practiced preparations for extraction. Bobby moved to kneel next to Buck, voice raised to make it through the mask and the continual patter of the sprinklers. "Buckley! Are you hurt?"

Buck didn't respond, his body shaking, his eyes locked on the ground before him. The sprinklers had plastered his hair to his forehead, but there was soot mixed with it, streaking down his face and neck. Eddie reached down and placed his own hand over Buck's motionless ones on the end of the improvised pulley. "We got him, Buck," Eddie said, as close to Buck's ear as he could get. "Let go, we got you."

He tapped the shaking, too-tight grip of Buck's hands on the handle of the axe. It was enough to get Buck to slide, his stance slipping again, until he was rapidly falling, sitting down hard. Eddie knelt beside him as quickly as he could, knees ringing with the suddenness of their meeting with the concrete, and caught Buck before he could sag further. "We got you," he said again, and this time, it seemed to sink in. Buck's hands loosened their death grip on the rope. This close, and Eddie could feel the deep shuddering that wracked Buck, whether exhaustion or pain he didn't know. But his face was eerily still.

Bobby grabbed Buck's chin, clearly just as unnerved by Buck's blank expression as Eddie. "You hurt, kid?" His voice was just as soothing as ever, that steady anchor that the 118 could always come back to.

Buck seemed to register his words, though he didn't blink. Barely seemed to breathe. But he did shake his head once, just a tight, quick motion. It didn't stop Eddie from wrapping his other arm around Buck's back, keeping his weight off the floor. It didn't do much to stop the way his heart was still pounding. The ice in his chest wasn't thawing, but having Buck within reach made it hurt less. He may not be hurt physically, but everything he knew about his best friend told him that something was still deeply wrong.

"Let's get outta here, yeah?" He muttered, and got his feet situated again under him. Buck was a tight bundle of nerves in his arms, but though he was apparently uninjured and mostly upright, Eddie still prepared to take all of Buck's weight. Bobby reached out to help too, grabbing their teammate's upper arm in a firm grip.

Between the two of them, they hauled Buck upright. He didn't fight, and he did try to help, but Eddie knew he wasn't imagining how Buck's legs shook, how he leaned heavier into Eddie's embrace to keep himself balanced.

"Diaz, get him out! I'll help them with the worker." Bobby wrenched his eyes away from Buck's face to lock eyes with Eddie. His own worry was echoed in the older man's face.

"Saleh."

The word was dull, barely a murmur. His voice was scratchy and low, and scarcely sounded like himself. But Buck turned his head to look at Hen and Chim as he spoke, so it had to be him, though his expression remained blank. "His name is Saleh."

There was a special kind of relief in Bobby's face when he nodded, and clapped Buck on the shoulder. "Saleh. I'll help them get Saleh outta here. We're right behind you."

"C'mon, Buck," Eddie couldn't bring himself to remove either arm from around the bowed, shaking figure of his best friend. "They'll take care of him now. Good work, man." He wanted to ask how Buck's breathing was, how long it had been since he'd given Saleh his mask. But Buck was curled in on himself, unnervingly quiet and small. Eddie didn't think he'd get a response.

Thankfully, though, he did feel Buck nod. The other firefighter straightened up enough to take his own weight, wavering only for a second. Eddie loosened his grip, but didn't remove it entirely. He kept one arm around Buck's shoulders, and gently steered the other man away from the vat and towards the exterior wall. He kept a close eye, but Buck's stride was unbroken—not even a limp from his old injury. Small mercies, Eddie guessed. He was able to propel Buck forward through the dismal spray of the sprinklers, toward the exit. His friend didn't drag his gaze up from the floor, but he did cough a few times at the increased exertion. "Almost out," he said. Without Buck's usual bright presence, Eddie felt the yawning silence engulf them both. Buck nodded dully, and his pace picked up just a bit.

They paused at the door out, Eddie having to tug Buck to a stop as his friend seemed unaware of anything around him. Two firefighters from the 141 jogged past them with a backboard. But as soon as the doorway was clear, Eddie started them moving again, Buck following blindly. The exit from the building was a breath of fresh air, literally, and Eddie ripped off his oxygen mask, grateful for the clear night and the lack of haze and water now that they were out. The other crews were still running, preparing for clean-up. Purpose instead of panic in their strides. The fresh air had triggered Buck into another coughing fit, but when Eddie started to slow, his friend shook his head again, and continued walking, so Eddie sighed and kept guiding them towards a waiting ambo.

Mehta met them just past the safe distance from the building. "Diaz, you need medics? Buckley, I had a reprimand for you, but I get the feeling that your captain will have that covered for me."

"He says he's uninjured," Eddie raised an eyebrow to tell Mehta that he didn't believe Buck either, "But I'll get him."

Buck straightened up just a bit under Mehta's gaze. He opened his mouth—and with the blank look in his eyes, Eddie couldn't guess if it was going to be an apology or a defense—but the IC shook his head. "Get checked out. Apologize to your Cap for the extra gray hairs you're giving him." The older man gestured back at the building, where Eddie saw the last worker, hoisted between the other paramedics and Hen and Chim. "Good work, Buckley. No casualties in a fire like this is nothing short of a miracle."

Buck closed his mouth with an audible _snap_. He seemed to work his jaw for a moment, but then nodded.

When Mehta's attention was dragged away by another report on the radio, Eddie tugged Buck a little closer. He probably didn't need the shoulder to lean on anymore, but Eddie did. "C'mon, just a bit further," he prodded. Buck didn't protest.

/

Hen usually liked to stick with a patient for as long as possible. Continuity of care, and all that. She and Chim had given the other paramedics from the 141 a rundown on Saleh's condition—severe smoke inhalation, declining heart-rate, definite shock, probable internal contusions from being trapped under that giant vat—and part of her was ready to follow him into the ambo, off to the hospital. She mentally prepared for the next steps—IV, oxygen mask, pulse ox—and for what she'd need to tell the hospital…

But Bobby, behind her, wasn't following. He split off from them when they didn't need his hands anymore, and was making a beeline for the 118's own ambulance. Their other two team members were there. Eddie, as gentle as she'd ever seen him, was guiding Buck to sit. Buck all but collapsed onto the step, movement slow and shaky, head still bowed low.

"You guys got him?" Chim spoke up, and she glanced over at him. He was looking at Buck too, eyebrows furrowed. They were on the same wavelength, as always.

She vaguely recognized one of the 133 from earlier in the night. _Johnson?_ Something like that. But he didn't blink at Chim's words, and nodded easily. "We've got the ambo prepped." Johnson looked briefly in Buck's direction. "Take care of your guy."

Hen gave him a nod of thanks. Chim had already let go of the backboard, and she turned after him, forcing herself back into a jog towards their youngest teammate. Even seeing him—upright, seemingly uninjured as Eddie checked him over—didn't banish the fear that still ate away at her. She'd told him to go, had watched him disappear into the flames. Some mixture of exasperation and fierce pride stirred in her chest. That kid scared the hell out of her on a regular basis. And she wouldn't have him change for the world.

Bobby reached them before Chim and Hen did, but only by a bit. "How's he doing?" He addressed Eddie, when Buck didn't so much as blink when the three of them came in view.

"I'm guessing minor smoke inhalation, but his vitals are fine," Eddie muttered, removing the stethoscope from his ears. Buck sat before them, turnout coat snapped open so Eddie could listen to his vitals, and clearly exhausted, but nothing else seemed wrong. There were no tears in his suit, he'd walked out of the building on his own power. He knew himself and his limits and was (mostly) out of the habit of pushing through injuries. Hen's medical training was saying the kid was probably okay. Her motherly instinct, though, was screaming that Buck was entirely too still, lacking either the contrition he sometimes wore or the grinning aftermath of adrenaline that were his two defaults after a risky save.

She didn't want to push the issue though, not when Buck hadn't yet made a sound, not when he could still be hiding some deep wound. She bided her time, and prepared whatever remedy she could think of. Denny liked distractions when he was sad. Karen needed a listening ear. Hen herself liked cocktails or ice cream. Once Buck shook himself out of the daze he seemed to be in, she would run through the list. Catching Bobby's eye, she saw he was prepared for the same—eyebrow raised, head tilted low to try and catch Buck's eye.

They'd gotten him out, but he wasn't back yet. The unsettled gloom that had settled around Buck ever since his parents came in town had expanded into a flat melancholy, dulling every attitude of their teammate into spikes of faked normalcy or simmering frustration. And now, it looked like the fire had stripped away that melancholy, and left them with a shell of their friend.

But sometimes you needed to get to rock bottom to start the climb back. Hen allowed herself to squeeze Buck's shoulder briefly. He didn't react, but it was more to reassure her that the kid was still there under the soot-stained turnout.

/

Chim wasn't an idiot. He knew he hadn't been subtle about the Buckley family secret. He knew Buck was hurting and lashing out, and he would (eventually) get over it. Chim couldn't imagine what he and Maddie were going through, _had_ gone through. But that didn't make it any easier to see his friend in pain, pushing him and Maddie away. Didn't make it any easier to see how much it hurt Maddie.

So he bit his lip, and let Buck deflect. He wouldn't be able to forever, and Chim would be there when he caved. He was almost surprised that morning when he realized that Buck had told the team everything. It made him worry just a little bit less—maybe he wouldn't have to wait for Buck to come to him, but could let the team support him instead. It didn't stop him from trying to bring it up a few times throughout the shift.

When he realized that the kid hadn't made it out of the factory, Chim had felt his stomach fall away. He wasn't surprised. Should have expected it. Knew that this was who Buck was, had seen him get out of tighter spots before.

But Chim also knew that Buck's world had been fractured already in the past 24 hours, and he was suddenly all too aware that Buck's tendency for recklessness was a _bad_ pairing with despair and betrayal. He knew that the end of that road ended with a call to Maddie that would destroy her too.

He'd kept it together long enough for them to get to the kid, long enough to let his paramedic training take over and inspire focus on the last worker. He was constantly aware of Buck in his periphery, of Eddie and Bobby hovering over him, but did not look. Did not know if Buck would accept his help if it was offered.

Once he, Hen, and the other paramedics had gotten Saleh out of the building, however, Chim knew he couldn't ignore it any longer. He made sure the 133 had the patient, then locked eyes with Hen and they moved as one, back to their family.

A pale echo of their teammate sat on the back of the ambulance, pliant as Eddie checked him over. Chim wouldn't have recognized him, honestly. Not with his hair plastered down with sweat and water, soot in streaks down his face, his shoulders curled in and his limbs still. He was unnaturally limp—exhaustion or something else, Chim wasn't sure—and barely seemed to breathe. Buck was a large guy and a large personality, and it was just proof of how badly he was affected.

Chimney held himself back from going closer, though. He let Eddie and Hen move toward him, let Bobby ask gentle questions. He still felt the sting from Buck's multiple rejections throughout the day, and he didn't want to know if his presence would cause an explosion or a further collapse. So he stayed carefully out of range, close enough to hear Hen's prognosis and to see Buck's downcast gaze.

A crackle came over the radio. " _We need an assist on the Alpha side, sprinklers malfunctioned and we're going to need some extra guys on the 141's hose_."

Bobby turned and looked at him. Chimney knew that one of them should go—they definitely did not need four people to check on a single, uninjured firefighter—but that none of them were quite ready to leave. He sighed, and made himself nod and turn away. Buck probably didn't want him there anyway.

"Chim."

It was the first word Buck had spoken at a truly audible volume since he'd radioed with his position, before the explosion. Chim spun immediately, opening his mouth. He was ready to apologize, to defend, to express concern. He braced to give an explanation for why he was leaving, even to explain why he hadn't told Buck about the family secret. Anything.

"Will you…" Buck's eyes drifted downward for a second before returning to his, and Chim hated how hoarse and subdued he sounded. "Will you call Maddie? And tell her I'm okay."

All of his planned words failed. That was one eventuality he was not expecting.

Buck's voice was so low. It sounded like he was preparing to be rejected.

"I—" Chim nodded, gripping the mask in his hands a little tighter. "'Course, Buck. I know she'll just be glad to know you're okay."

"And tomorrow, a-after the shift," Buck continued, slower, working his jaw like the words needed coaxing to come out, "Can I come back to her place with you." It wasn't quite a question, and his voice seemed to trail away, like he was doubting his own words.

It was like a weight had vanished from his chest. He knew he was grinning; despite the whole situation he couldn't help the relief that flooded through him, at the concept of the siblings talking, at the sign that Buck was still in there. Not destroyed by the events of the past day and the factory fire. He had to swallow before he could bring himself to answer. "Absolutely, man."

Buck didn't smile back at him. But he also didn't look away, and his red eyes seemed brighter than before. After a second, the kid nodded, and sighed, letting Eddie return to taking his blood pressure.

Chimney nodded at Bobby, knowing the cap would take care of the fallout now. He pulled out his phone, and though the phone conversation was absolutely going to involve a lot of reassurances to make sure his girlfriend didn't attempt to come out here and check on her brother herself, Chim found he was still grinning.

/

Once Chim headed back towards the factory—phone already in hand—Bobby turned to the rest of his team. Hen was almost done with the check-up, and Buck obediently stayed still while she checked his pupil response. Eddie had backed up to give her room, and Bobby got his attention, and they stepped away for a moment. "Can you work on getting the last of our gear packed up?" All of them were worn out with worry and effort, but they still had a job to do. And Bobby got the impression that Buck needed space to process. He never took their hovering well.

For a second, he thought Eddie would protest. He glanced at Buck for another minute, gaze steady with consideration. Then he nodded slowly, and though Bobby knew he'd prefer to stay where Buck was within eyesight, moved off to continue the cleanup.

He drifted back to the slumped figure on the back of the 118's ambulance.

And Bobby finally let himself ask the important question. He hoped that maybe, now that Buck was tracking with them again, had spoken, had been cleared of any injuries, now he would actually get a response.

"You okay?"

It took a moment, but Buck did answer.

"I got _lost_ , Bobby." The admission fell out of him, and the kid lifted his head to look at him, some deep grief piercing the exhaustion. His voice was low, almost ashamed. "I went off on my own, and two seconds later, I didn't know where the hell I was standing."

"Buck, that place is a maze." Bobby said.

Hen, her expression endlessly fond, caught the kid's eye next. "And no one was surprised that you stayed in there, Buck."

He nodded in response, dully, eyes flickering back down.

"I almost gave up." Buck seemed to say it before he'd processed it, and Bobby watched as his face crumpled. It was the first real emotion he'd shown since leaving the smoke. The despair flooded his already-red eyes, and Buck dragged his gaze up to Hen's, shaken and guilty. "If you guys hadn't come in, then—"

"But we did." Hen met his broken gaze without wavering, her voice pitched low. She glanced over at Bobby, the same fondness in her eyes that Bobby felt in his own. "And we always will."

Buck held her gaze, breathing a little heavier. But then he started nodding, jerkily, numbly, and eventually dropped his head again. Bobby and Hen pretended they didn't see the growing moisture in his eyes.

He turned away in time to see another familiar figure emerge from the crowd. Bobby couldn't help a fond smile at his wife's usual, composed posture, silhouetted against the flickering lights of the many EMS vehicles. Not a single hair out of place.

"They said it was a big one. They weren't kidding." Her voice was wry and cut through the dimming chaos easily. But Bobby knew her, and knew that Athena hadn't just happened to be walking by them. His wife's eyes may have been on him, but Athena was here for the too-still figure at Hen's side.

"Firefighter Buckley here pulled out the very last victim." Bobby's kept his tone even, but there as no mistaking his pride. He couldn't keep a smile of his face as he walked closer to her. Even with the mask on, he could see Athena grin in return.

"Of course he did," Athena said, and finally turned to look at the younger man. Buck took a deep breath, and tilted his head up to look away. It looked like he attempted a smile for a second, but it faltered immediately. "Yeah," he said instead, voice rough. "Then everyone else had to pull _me_ out."

Bobby shook his head internally at the downtrodden, near-angry look in Buck's eyes at the admission. But thankfully, Athena stepped closer.

"Well, I'm sure whoever you saved is just glad you were being Buck."

That inspired the first honest grin Bobby had seen him wear all day. It wasn't of humor, though, as Buck looked back up at them. "I don't even know what that means," he admitted, heartbreakingly. An ache spread in Bobby's chest at the grief in the kid's eyes.

He looked back at Athena. She caught his eye for a mere second, but then shook her head and walked towards Buck again.

"You never give up." She said it like it was obvious. Soft and sure and quick; no doubt or addendums. Buck's face slackened as she said it, as she moved towards him. "That's what being Buck means to me.

"But whatever you do, don't stop." She reached out and clapped him on the arm. Bobby watched Buck's face soften, flicker into a facsimile of his usual grin.

/

After Athena left, Buck seemed to regain some awareness of his surroundings. He shook away Hen's attempt to help him take the turnout coat off. He made no move to leave the step of the ambulance, but he repositioned on it, shrugging his shoulders back and leaning against the doorframe, eyes tracking the movement of the other crews still swarming around the building. Hen busied herself reorganizing the ambo again, since their youngest member scarcely needed the pulse ox.

And Bobby found his opportunity.

There was enough room next to him on the bumper of the ambo, and Bobby slowly set himself down beside the younger man. He didn't look at him, but slowly—giving him enough time to push back if he was uncomfortable—brought his arm up to encircle Buck's shoulders. Buck's breath seemed to catch, but he didn't say anything.

"I've only seen a few five-alarm fires in my career," Bobby said. "Thankfully always avoided being the IC for any of them."

Buck didn't say anything. He had slowly started moving again, after his terrifying stillness in the immediate aftermath of the rescue. His eyes were still red-rimmed, eyebrows low, but his face had lost the despair-stricken expression.

Bobby kept his tone light. He was aiming for distraction, for something to make Buck's shell-shock fade into tiredness. "We had one back in Minnesota," he continued, "But there were no confirmed civilians inside. It was just a battle against the fire before it could spread to surrounding buildings. Man, the poets say flowery stuff about fire being alive, but anytime we see a fire like that, or tonight? I believe them."

As his words continued, Bobby felt Buck start to relax. Just minute amounts, but he knew he wasn't imagining the way Buck's weight slowly came to rest against his arm, the way his left hand slowly loosened its white-knuckle grip on his turnout coat. "You can't really out-smart it, though you'd think that's easy. Fire's not exactly able to pre-plan, or anything. But it never matters, in that moment with an impossibly large fire in front of you. There's always some factor that you didn't know about or didn't consider, and the fire finds it before you can combat it." Bobby never let himself think about the _what-if_ s, the multitude of ways that his family could be torn from him in any given circumstance. He anchored himself in moments like this—this young man who was his son in everything but name, their job finished, leftovers at the firehouse that they could enjoy after they got Buck checked out. He breathed deep of the night air, the lingering smoke scarcely noticeable in comparison to the relief Bobby still felt at having his team all in one piece. "You can only do the next thing in front of you. Try the most direct way, address each problem as it comes up. Do your best. Don't give up. All those cheesy taglines."

"Is this some kind of motivational speech, Cap?"

Bobby looked over at the kid. Buck still wasn't looking at him, but there was the ghost of a smile on his face.

"I'm only calling it that if it's working."

Buck's shoulders began to shake, and then they were both laughing—nothing raucous or uncontrollable, but familiar and steady. His voice was still slightly hoarse and smoke-tinged, but it was the closest to normal he'd sounded all day. Bobby squeezed the man tighter to his side for a brief moment. "I'm going to insist on taking you to the hospital for a full check-up, but really, you're doing me a favor if you say yes. If I stay here, I'm going to have start helping the 133 with cleanup, and I really don't want to deal with filing those reports."

Buck chuckled again, ducking his head down. He had regained some of the usual life in his eyes, his shoulders weighed not so much by despondency but instead just plain exhaustion.

"Seeing as you're the captain here, I don't have any other answer but 'fine', do I?"

"Nope," Bobby released him, and stood. "We'll take the SUV, let Chimney take the ambo back."

"You mean, let him deal with the post-call cleanup at the firehouse?"

"Exactly."

Bobby extended a hand to help Buck up. He watched the kid consider it, watched him take a deep breath and let it out, shaking his head. He looked far from normal, far from the bright presence that buoyed the team with random facts and stubborn sunshine.

But he also didn't look so adrift anymore. Those blue eyes flickered up to meet his, and there was emotion there, some mixture of gratitude and dependency. There was purpose in the way he reached out, a rekindling of the ardent spirit that always infused the younger firefighter.

Bobby helped him to his feet, keeping a hand on his shoulder to keep him from wavering in fatigue. They turned their backs on the dying factory fire, and Bobby waved goodbye to Hen. The persistent noise of the other firehouses and the end of the fight faded with every step they took. The air got increasingly invigorating, clearer. Practically a hug after experiencing the fraught air inside the factory. Buck didn't stumble on the way to the SUV. He leaned ever so slightly into Bobby's steadying hand, and released deep breaths into the night. There was honesty in the slump of his shoulders, no pretend cheer or forced nonchalance.

And somewhere out in front of them was the dawn. Maybe still beyond the horizon, but Bobby knew it was there. It was on its way. That was enough for now.

_Throw yourself into the unknown  
With pace and a fury defiant  
Clothe yourself in beauty untold  
And see life as a means to a triumph  
Today of all days, see  
How the most dangerous thing is to love  
How you will heal and you'll rise above  
Crowned by an overture bold and beyond  
Ah, it's more courageous to overcome'_

_~fin~_

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** Hi I wrote this in approximately 10 hours over the past week and I have no clue where it came from but i DO know that I'm really emotional about 9-1-1 rn and Buck Begins was beautiful but was missing some HUGS and also we can never have enough worried!firefam
> 
> if there are typos or inconsistencies in character here i do not care, i just needed to get this out i think
> 
> Title, and opening/closing lyrics from the song "Achilles Come Down" by Gang of Youths. That song fits Buck so perfectly, I've been listening to it on repeat for about three days now.
> 
> .
> 
> This is like... 99.8% canon? But i did add a little stuff to Chim's section because it felt right and also I wanted to.
> 
> On that note though, there are several portions of dialogue taken straight from the episode, I definitely did not write those.
> 
> .
> 
> fun side note, but the Bobby hugging Buck scene was inspired by a picture on tumblr of a scene that apparently got cut and I wrote that section entirely because I wanted that scene to be in the episode so badly. (https://translucent-bisexual.tumblr.com/post/643314582295822336/we-deserved-this-scene-buck-deserved-this-scene)
> 
> .
> 
> also I promise that I'm still working on my multi-chapter ToA fic, 9-1-1 has just possessed me over the past couple weeks and I have done nothing but read fanfic for it and cry so I needed to write this before I finish the next chapter.
> 
> have a great day lovelies


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